


office hours

by exprsslyfrbidden



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Hot, Kara gives the best massages, Lena finds it hot as well, Lena knows kara's supergirl, Massage, PWP, Smut, and Lena's just weak for her hands, french-speaking, have you heard melissa singing in french?, office smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exprsslyfrbidden/pseuds/exprsslyfrbidden
Summary: Lena really needs to get a massage chair, but then where would be the fun in that?In which Kara gives sinfully good massages and neither of them can keep it in their pants.





	office hours

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine, lemme know if you catch any glaring ones.

Tension.

 

Strings of stress are plucked along her skin as if by an inexperienced harp player, rippling waves of it fluttering subtle and uncomfortable under her muscles. It’s teeth-cutting, like grit on her tongue, and blossoms in a knot of tangled pain at the base of her skull. A ghost touch around her head, the premonition of the tension headache to come, pulses in time with her heartbeat. Whoever said stress could be good for you needs to be fired.

 

Lena presses her fingertips to her temples and massages them, hoping to dissipate that foreboding headache just a little longer. It’s Tuesday night; far too early for the headaches to appear. “Dammit,” she growls, aggressive as she scrolls down several pages into the financial report. The numbers are blurring in front of her and she feels like she’s taken root in the chair from how long she’s been sitting.

 

She should get up, stretch, or do _something_ to get her blood pumping but the paralyzing need to get work done keeps her in the chair. The throb of dull metal scraping across her nerve endings doesn’t just end at her headache, either; her period’s just ended, and echoes of back pain still reverberate. Simply put, everything hurts and Lena just wants to go home and sleep for two days straight.

 

Unfortunately, the life of a CEO runs pretty much opposite to that. She’d come in this morning powering through on caffeine and a disgusting amount of sugar, running on less than five hours of sleep, and crappy sleep at that. She never sleeps well during her period. At least she hadn’t had to deal with Bloody Niagara Falls today. The one good thing about a pretty shitty day.

 

She stares at the laptop screen and her gaze falls to her phone, turned off and set aside to avoid distraction. God, she wishes she could call Kara right now. She’d give her next coffee just to hear her voice.

 

But no, Supergirl’s helping her cousin with a raging fire in the meatpacking district, Lena can smell the smoke all the way from where she is, and that means no Kara.

 

Lena groans and leans forward, pressing her forehead against the cool surface of her desk. She reaches around to massage her lower back, not able to get enough pressure to really do anything but trying anyways. “Fuck,” she mutters into the desk, thumbs digging into hips. She really needs to get a massage chair, or something —

 

“Hey, babe,” Kara murmurs from behind her, and Lena jumps, knees hitting the bottom of the desk. Everything on it jumps half an inch and Kara snatches her coffee up, milliseconds away from toppling, and sets it back upright. “Sorry,” she apologizes, but Lena’s nothing but relief and smiles as she whirls in her chair and rises to her feet.

 

“Hey,” she returns, soft. It’s a miracle, this sort of calmness that falls over her as soon as Kara’s in close proximity. Like a tranquilizer, she muses. “Did you put the fire out?”

 

“Yup, all taken care of.” Kara looks at her through lowered lashes, shy smile on pretty curved lips. The pinpoints of light scattered across the horizon catch in her hair. “You want a massage?” she suggests with care, and it’s Kara Danvers talking, not Supergirl.

 

Lena exhales, surprised, and her hands twist together. “You’ve got time to spare?”

 

A little crinkle between her eyebrows, but a smile-y one. “For you?” Kara moves closer into her space, hands hanging loose with potential. Her smile deepens with sincerity. “Always.”

 

Lena returns with a smile that belies the little uptick in pulse that comes with the sentiment. Kara says these things because she means them and it’s still hard to believe, or to really trust. After all, Lex said those things with the exact same sincerity. Look where they are now.

 

“Sure,” Lena says, slipping back into the comfortable CEO facade, where she treats their budding relationship like a business deal to be worked out, where she meets oncoming challenges with a five-year plan and a contingency if that doesn’t work. “I do need a break.”

 

Kara motions towards the couch, a little excited and more professional than Lena would have imagined. “Make yourself comfortable.”

 

Lena has lots of things she wants to say — how she’s fantasized about this at night, wants to ask if she should take her blouse off, how much she likes the smell of smoke on Kara — but she settles for “Do you just want to get your hands on me, Supergirl?”, accompanied by the smirk that always leaves Kara spluttering and rosy-cheeked.

 

She’s forgotten, though; this is Supergirl. Not Kara Danvers.

 

“Would you hold them against me if I said yes?” Supergirl teases, golden curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Go on, lie down.”

 

Lena swallows and obeys. She tucks a pillow under her head, lying on her front, and doesn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that she wore slacks today. “How has your day been?” she asks. “Do you know if the fire was arson or just an accident?”

 

Kara hums. “We’re pretty sure it was an accident.” Lena’s not quite prepared for what happens next; Kara floats into the air, drifts over, and gently straddles her thighs, skirt ruffling around her hips. Lena stiffens and Kara floats up even more, until Lena can barely feel her weight. “Okay?”

 

“Um, can you” — Lena can’t quite see with her neck craned like this, but she hopes her vague hand motions will suffice — “settle your weight a little more? You won’t flatten me, promise.” Kara huffs out a laugh and a comforting weight comes to rest on her thighs. “Thanks,” she breathes. “That feels safer.”

 

Kara hums and her fingertips begin to brush light strokes down Lena’s neck. “Tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” Lena nods into the pillow and closes her eyes. There’s something about this — Kara’s soothing presence behind her, the sensation of not having to be in control — that relaxes every atom of her body, quieting the buzz of stress in the background and lulling her into peacefulness.

 

Strong, confident fingertips press into the space between her shoulder blades and it’s everything she can do to not moan like she’s in a porno. Just... _goddamn,_ that feels _good._ There’s firm power behind Kara’s hands. She can bend steel with those hands, but still, she touches Lena like she’s crystal.

 

It’s a few minutes before Kara speaks again, but Lena doesn’t even notice the lapsed time, too focused on melting beneath those _wonderful_  hands. “I wrote a puff piece on how people need touch to survive,” Kara murmurs, thumbs pressing delightful little circles into Lena’s upper back. She muffles a moan of pleasure and squirms a little, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “Did you know that most people nowadays are are touch-starved? The doctors call it skin hunger.”

 

Kara’s fingertips ripple down Lena’s back, bringing out a pleasant, soothing ache in her muscles and leaving her limp and pliant. Shudders of bliss radiate out from each of Kara’s fingertips like starbursts. “Mmm, yeah,” Lena mumbles, not really listening. “That feels amazing.”

 

There’s a smile in Kara’s voice. “You’re not paying attention, are you?” There’s no accusation there, just a soft happy gibe.

 

“Mmm, no,” Lena admits, muffled. “But keep talking, I like hearing your voice.”

 

“Whatever you want, babe,” Kara murmurs, and Lena sighs, deep and languid.

 

“I love it when you call me babe.” Kara’s thumbs dig into a particularly tense area of her back and Lena groans, instinctively squirming away. Kara’s hands loosen and move away, cautious, and Lena makes a noise of disapproval. “No, keep going, that’s good,” she mumbles, words slurred into the pillow.

 

“Okay.” Kara continues, a little gentler but still firm and confident. Lena grins dopily into the pillow and arches into Kara’s touch. “Mm, what was I saying? Oh, skin hunger.” Kara’s hands slide down, fingers undulating on Lena’s lower back. “Do you think you have that? I know you never like touching other people, but around me, I’ve noticed that you’re…”

 

“...clingy?” Lena mutters. She’s got half an ear tuned to what Kara’s saying. Rippling waves of melting ache spread out across her muscles and she feels soft, pliant. Melty. Like a puddle of nothing but relaxation and bliss and Kara’s fingers, stirring up those delicious aches and soothing the knots, pressing down and working until they dissipate.

 

“Well, not in a bad way.” Kara’s hands inch down, pressing and massaging, and Lena doesn’t do anything but moan when her palms brush the top of her ass. “I like it” — she pauses, hands stilling, and Lena barely contains a whine of displeasure — “it makes me feel special.”

 

“You...you are special,” Lena murmurs, not quite sure how to form coherent sentences. Kara’s hands, after that little tease, slide back up, thumbs working at the tension in her lower back. “God, that feels fucking fantastic.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Kara laughs, quiet and contemplative. “Do I have a time limit on this?”

 

Lena scoffs into the pillow. “God no, please never stop.” She can feel the air vibrate from Kara’s smile.

 

“I’m going to try something. Is that all right with you?”

 

Sometimes, it hurts to think about how _good_ of a girlfriend Kara is. How considerate, how caring, how she’s always got Lena’s best interests in mind. It’s eerie, because Lena’s never really _understood_ that feeling until she’d met Kara Danvers. “Yes,” she breathes, shifting back into the comforting embrace of Kara’s legs. “Go ahead.”

 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Kara says, and then her hands are sneaking down again, palms almost-hot through the material of Lena’s blouse, and they squeeze her ass — a good, firm handful, enough to make Lena squirm and moan just a bit too loud — before tugging at her blouse. The material comes untucked and Lena gasps at the first touch of superheated skin to her back.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Kara’s hands are like brands, searing in a good, shivery way, a hot bath sort of way. Lena imagines that if she looks back, she’ll see smoke wisping off her skin as Kara’s fingerprints are pressed into her skin, swirls of ash imprinted in her flesh forever. Kara’s hands slide up her back, just barely brushing her skin, and Lena shudders. “Kara…” She draws out her name like honey on her lips, a bare whisper.

 

“Yeah, babe?” Kara repeats the motion, this time pressing into the taut muscles of Lena’s back, and Lena squirms, gasping. “Good?”

 

“Fuck, yes,” Lena breathes, shifting beneath Kara’s legs. Kara hums, and the noise is strained.

 

“You’re going to have to stop moving around, Lena,” she warns. Her fingertips graze the little hairs on Lena’s skin, like a intimate breeze, and goosebumps follow in her wake. Lena shudders and her grip on the couch tightens.

 

“Why?” she asks, with an inkling of the answer and a plan to make it the answer she wants to hear.

 

“You know why,” Kara murmurs, and Lena doesn’t have to be able to see Kara’s face to know she’s blushing, spots of red high up in her cheeks, eyes shining and dark, lashes lowered. Lena squirms under her, purposely, and Kara groans, low in her throat. Her hands still. “ _Lena_.”

 

“Hmm?” Lena chances a look over her shoulder; she’s right. Flushed, pretty pink cheeks, hungry eyes, and — the cherry on top — lower lip sucked between her teeth. Kara scowls, with no heat in it at all. “You were saying something?” Lena asks, tone deliberate and light.

 

Kara’s weight disappears off Lena’s legs and her voice is gravelly and low in a way that sends a spike of heat between Lena’s legs. “Turn over.”

 

Lena obeys, eager. Pillow propped up behind her head, she regards Kara as the blonde comes floating back down to straddle Lena’s thighs. Kara’s gaze skims up and down her body — eyes catching on the untucked hem of Lena’s blouse, of the loose hairs wisping around the nape of her neck, of the little smudge of lipstick on the corner of her mouth. It’s the latter that she focuses on, leaning down, cape sliding to the side, to wipe away. Lena freezes and lets her. A smudge of red comes away on Kara’s thumb and she inspects her handiwork, close, but not quite close enough for Lena to kiss.

 

“Are you going to do something, or are you just going to stare all day?” Lena prompts. It’s blunt; nonetheless, it gets Kara moving.

 

Her eyes — a lovely shade of light midnight, like the dawn sky — are tugged back down to Lena’s mouth and the corner of her own mouth quirks up. “I think I will do something,” she breathes, leaning in.

 

Lena follows the motion, trying to meet her halfway, but Kara surprises her. Soft, smiling lips flutter at her jaw, nudging a gasp out of Lena’s lungs. Kara noses at the sensitive, ticklish spot behind Lena’s ear, and Lena’s hands find purchase in the tough, smooth material of Kara’s cape. “God, Kara,” she mutters, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

 

A happy little sound slips into Kara’s tone. “Maybe a little death,” she jokes, and Lena groans, hand flying up to her forehead. “What?” Kara’s defensive, a bit indignant, and Lena can’t help but giggle. Kara pulls back, eyebrows creased. “I thought that was good.”

 

“No, it was,” Lena laughs, “but I can’t believe you made that joke. Do you even speak French?”

 

 _“Oui, à vrai dire. Et toi?"_ Lena swallows, mouth suddenly dry. _I do, as a matter of fact. Do you?_

 

“Um, yeah,” she mumbles, lamely. “ _C'est super sexy.” That’s really hot._

 

Kara grins, wolfish and delighted. _“Tu veux que je te touche ?”_

 

Lena exhales, air hissing out through her teeth. _Want me to touch you?_ “Yes. Please.”

 

 _“Avec plaisir.” My pleasure._ Lena is wrecked even before Kara starts to unbutton her blouse, those rolling syllables pouring in her ears. Language of romance, _indeed._ “Can I…?” Kara tugs at her blouse, giving up on the buttons. Lena feels an eyebrow lift, inquisitive and amused.

 

“Only if you have the time after this to fly back and get me another top.”

 

Buttons fly; Lena’s going to be finding those rolling around for ages. “I’m pretty fast,” Kara tells her, devouring the expanse of skin revealed to her. She tosses Lena’s ruined blouse across the back of the couch. “Rao, you’re beautiful.”

 

Lena has to turn her gaze upward, to avoid the ardent adoration in Kara’s eyes. _“Tu n'étais pas sensée me toucher ?” You said something about touching?_

 

A laugh huffs from Kara’s mouth. “Impatient, are we?”

 

“You had your hands all over me earlier,” Lena retorts, “how am I supposed to be patient when you’re just sitting there gawking at me?”

 

“I am not gawking,” Kara exclaims. “I’m _admiring._ ”

 

“Admire with your hands,” Lena hisses, exasperated and horny and aching. “ _Kara. Si tu ne me touches pas…” If you don’t touch me…_ “I’m not letting you come.” She rolls her hips up, nudging a knee into the space between Kara’s legs, and the blonde gasps. Her eyes flutter shut at the friction, muscles flexing in her throat. “And I know you want to.”

 

“ _Ce n’est pas juste,”_ Kara complains, _that’s not fair,_  but she smoothes her palm across Lena’s stomach anyways. “ _Dis-moi ce que tu veux que je te fasse.” Tell me what you want me to do to you._

 

Lena struggles to remember any curse words in French and can only come up with “bloody cock-sucking bastard”. Probably not appropriate in this situation. She reverts back to English. It’s unfortunate that her college level French skills don’t extend to dirty-talking; they hadn’t ever gotten to that unit in class. “I want your fingers in me,” she says, “and your mouth on my chest.” Kara gapes a little, half awed and half aroused. Lena snaps her fingers, a little unsure of if she’s pushing boundaries or not. “Well?”

 

Kara leans down and meets Lena’s gaze through lowered lashes. “Yes, ma’am,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Lena’s collarbone. _“Tout ce que tu veux." Anything for you._

 

Lena’s distracted by the hot wet press of Kara’s mouth on her chest and doesn’t register the slack in her bra until it’s tugged off her arms. Hot tongue, slick and eager, slides across her nipple and Lena moans, biting down on her own fist to muffle the sound. Her breasts are sensitive — enough that she almost never goes without a bra — and Kara’s mouth is _hot. Wet._ Slick, and her tongue….Lena bites into her fist hard enough to leave indents and Kara notices.

 

She offers up her own hand, the left one. “Here, don’t hurt yourself.”

 

“How considerate,” Lena mumbles, considering it. “But I can think of better things that hand can be doing.”

 

Kara sighs, rolls her eyes with nothing but fondness in them, and smoothes her palms across Lena’s thighs. “Yes, ma’am.” The button of Lena’s slacks pops open at her touch, the material tugged down so Kara can press her fingers against the damp spot on Lena’s panties. “Mmm, Lena…” Kara strokes her, and it’s firm but not quite enough. Lena whines, hips trapped under Kara’s body and hands fisted in her hair, unable to do anything but moan. She’d never imagined that their first time having sex in the office would be like this.

 

“Kara,” she warns, breathless quality stealing the threat from her voice. “Fingers, now, please.”

 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Kara pushes her panties aside and slides in. Lena groans, low and filthy. “Good?”

 

“Yes,” Lena gasps. Kara’s fingers, even just two, fill her up and leave her aching, like she’s got her fingertips pressed up against the hollow of her existence and is filling it, filling it with nothing but hot wet pleasure. “ _Kara._ ”

 

“Mmmm?” She’s moving now, thrusting smooth and steady, leaving little bite marks on Lena’s chest and her nipples shining and wet with her saliva. “You’re so good, baby, so good. So beautiful.” The words press soft into Lena’s skin and dissipate in the warm air. Lena’s clutching at any part of Kara she can reach — tough red cape, soft hair, the hard sweeping line of her jaw, strong throat — and Kara lets her, hand moving quick and curled, bodies brushing and melding at the joints. “You’re so beautiful,” Kara murmurs again, and presses soft against Lena’s clit with her palm.

 

Lena doesn’t have the capacity to warn Kara that she’s close, but it’s no hard thing to notice. The movement of her hips grows frantic. Breathing goes ragged. “ _Kara,_ ” is the only thing on her lips and pleasure is the only on her mind.

 

“Come for me, baby,” Kara whispers, and Lena obeys.

 

“Fuck, Kara, ah, fuck —” She clenches around Kara’s fingers and moans, muffled and unabashed, into the hand that comes up to cover her mouth. The feeling ripples through her in almost-painful throbs. Her nails dig into the steel blue of Kara’s costume, scritching down the rough material.

 

“Shhh, shh,” Kara whispers, cheeks flushed. “We can’t have Jess hearing you like this, can we?” She retracts her hand, careful, and Lena squirms. Kara’s words turn teasing, lilting. “Plus, you still owe me an orgasm.”

 

“Now who’s the impatient one?” Lena manages, breathing hard, smile lazy and body limp. She grabs Kara’s wrist and licks the taste of herself off her fingers. Kara makes a sound, strangled and needy, in the back of her throat. Lena’s words are soft with drowsiness, sharp at the edges with purpose. “Take off your skirt, Supergirl.”

 

“There’s, um, no need for that,” Kara mumbles. A brief blur of movement, then she’s standing with dark blue panties dangling from her hand. Lena hums, approving.

 

“Oh, good. I’m going to like fucking you like that.”

 

Kara whines in the back of her throat and shuffles on her feet. “Lena.”

 

“Yes, darling?” Lena struggles upright, finding something intrinsically sordid about her unbuttoned pants, the glistening trails of Kara’s kisses down her chest, and the pleasing ache settling between her thighs. Kara gazes at her, eyes a pleading, soft blue. “You know what? I think I’m done working for today.” She buttons her pants, ignoring Kara’s soft sigh of frustration. “Would you like to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

 

“Rao, Lena, you’re so mean,” Kara pouts, but it only takes her a few seconds to get Lena’s blouse back on and her office straightened. _“Tu aimes me voir souffrir_ _?_ ” _Do you just like seeing me squirm?_

 

Lena pauses, paging through her rusty vocabulary. “ _J'avoue. Mais je veux aussi te lécher jusqu'à ce que tu me supplies d'arrêter..._ ” _Well, yes. But I also want to eat you out until you beg me to stop…_ Lena smirks, presses a chaste kiss to Kara’s cheek. “...and we can’t do that that here. Ready to go?”

  
Kara hops back into her underwear, almost toppling over in her haste. “Okay, yes, mmhmm, let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> questions, comments, concerns, the instructions for the Progressive Aerobic Cardiovascular Endurance Run (PACER), I'll take it all. hot or not? let me know! 
> 
> or come tell me what you wanna see in the future and I'll see if I can whip up something @feveredreams.tumblr.com
> 
> disclaimer: all french is from google translate, yikes


End file.
